


Get Thee A Tourniquet

by anthroxagorus



Category: Hannibal (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aristotle would be horrified, M/M, Murder Husbands, Plato would diassociate, Post-Series, Sporadic Updates, fantastic meals and how to prepare them, gray sexuality, magic and mischief, not that kind of doctor (technically not the other kind), world-building liberties taken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 11:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthroxagorus/pseuds/anthroxagorus
Summary: Hannibal Lector was a deadly and dangerous man, before he teamed up with Will Graham. With Will’s magic, they just might be unstoppable. Post-series, inspired by the opening of Fantastic Beasts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by WishTriangle. Begrudgingly.
> 
> You're good to me.

Hannibal had been ready to give himself over, now that he'd shown Will his world finally, now that Will _understood_. Will clung to him, half stuck by the mingling of the sticky blood between them, basking in newfound euphoria, and then remembering how they were, how this would go. They were destructive. Hannibal would be thinking they've exhausted their good luck, and that there was little use in running. All roads would lead to Jack. Smile for the camera.

And Hannibal would want Jack to see them together, in this world where he'd won over Will's love. This was the moment he lived for; Will wondered if he'd forgive him for ruining it. Will hadn't really been able to form a better plan at the time, they were both losing blood, but Will edged them to the cliff, determined to literally throw them off balance. He had his hand firmly on his wand, the spell ready. For a brief moment, he saw Hannibal's quiet acceptance of their death, of Will's decision. And then Will's spell yanked them from the air and hurled them back into the house.

Apparition hit everyone differently. Will found it unpleasant; Hannibal looked shell-shocked. They stood outside his Wolf Trap home, in a clearing. It was the first place he thought of.  That gave him time to form the next stop of his wild and crazy plan. Step one: Fake their deaths. Jack and crew would waste time looking for their bodies in the river below, as no blood trail led away from the crime scene. Step two: Get the hell out of dodge.

“There's something I want to show you,” Will had said quickly, before Hannibal said something and took over. And once he started talking, Will was wrapped up in his words. So he had to strike now while he still had his senses. Will was easily distracted by him. How much blood had he lost again?

“What do you want to show me?” His voice rumbled. Will would've caught his wary tone if he hadn't been so focused on keeping his head.

Will thrust a wooden stick from his pocket and beamed. “You've seen this on me, haven't you?”

“I thought you were just happy to see me,” Hannibal said drily. He eyed it uncertainly

“I'm a wizard,” Will announced. He waited for Hannibal to be caught off-guard, to be shocked. Hannibal blinked slowly. Close enough.

Wasting little time, Will swished the stick in the air, muttered _scourgify_ , and sent an invisible brush between them to scrub off the blood matted on them. This took a few tries, as he was used to doing the spell on himself, but not another person. For their scars, he did shoddy work of cauterizing, than glamoring away their presence. Will mended their clothes, adjusted his glasses, and then circled Hannibal to be sure he hadn't missed any spots. His entire body was tense. _Well, we'll have to work on that, won't we?_

“Am I hallucinating?” Hannibal asked calmly. “Did you put something in my wine?”

“You'd deserve it, wouldn't you?” Will muttered, satisfied with his work. As if he had a chance to drug him at any point that evening.  “Look, this isn't the kind of thing I go about showing off. The MACUSA would have my head.”

“Macooza,” he repeated, slowly, waiting to find its meaning somewhere in his mind.

“The MACUSA is our government, the magic government, supposed to keep us in line and all that. They're about as effective as the law enforcement are with you. Honestly, as long as you're not going around performing dark magic, no one cares.” Will was losing his train of thought. “Any idea what that means?”

A smile cracked through the other man’s façade.  Good, he was catching on.

“What's next, then?”

“We've got a train to catch.”

* * *

 Of course, this is what Will wanted to do the night they nearly caught Hannibal. Like most of Will's plans, he'd given it zero thought. He'd called Hannibal, because he wanted him to get safely away. He'd called for an ambulance, because he hadn't wanted Alana to die. And when he saw Abigail, the wildly beautiful look in Hannibal's eyes, he was grateful Hannibal had waited for him, had meant to apparate them all far away so they could live in their own world. He was ready to give up his secret. He'd longed for him all at once and knew with certainty he wouldn't come back from this. He'd wanted so many things. Tonight, he was able to reverse time, truly repair the teacup.

Hannibal quietly followed Will's lead as they dropped by the nearest train station Will knew. Any train would take him to back into the magical community, but it had be a train to get through the shields and glamours the MACUSA had placed. It was  woefully outdated, but it was home. The magical community's commitment to isolation had at some point frustrated Will. Now, it was the perfect cover. He pulled Hannibal beyond the veil and purchased their tickets with the gallons he kept in his back-pocket. Will had bought coffee from a vender, while Hannibal had groped through his pocket and bought a copy of every wizard newspaper.

They took over a compartment in the back, Will threaded an arm around his and drifted to sleep, while Hannibal was rigid and alert. Will drifted in and out of sleep, aware of the faintly metallic smell over him, Hannibal's warm presence, the occasional brush of his fingers. Like heaven.

It had been a long time since he'd been back to Old New York , but little had changed. Little ever had. It was why he'd left. Not a eye bat as Hannibal stepped off the platform and joined the robed crowds on the streets. Hannibal should've easily been the most recognized face in the country, plastered through the media from California to Maine. Hell, Will had his own notoriety. It should've inspired fear. But no, instead a golden haired girl outside the Kowalski bakery waved enthusiastically with one hand, balancing a tray of niffler-claws with the other. Around them, people murmured about the upcoming school year, gardening secrets, Quidditch matches.

“Idyllic, isn't it?” Hannibal murmured.

“You'll be bored of it soon,” he murmured back.

Will tried to steer the other man to an inn and a proper bed, knowing he'd refused to sleep on the train, but Hannibal pulled him firmly into the bookstore and picked out a stack of titles, then to a cafe, where he kept his gaze on Will, and his ears on the conversations around him. The more time they were spending together, the more Will was seeing how he worked. The rules of the game had changed and now Hannibal was re-assessing the game-board. He was constantly calculating. He'd drill Will later with questions, once he'd absorbed what he could. Until then, Will was perfectly happy, insanely happy, to stare at the other man, at his other half, and not have to make small talk. They had food, freedom, and each other. They were finally together. It was funny how-

“You're bleeding through your guise,” Hannibal cut in, pocketing a napkin, and pulling Will down the street. They checked into a room with two beds at the Electric Feathers Inn, where Hannibal made him lie down. Will had the presence of mind to cauterize their wounds close, but he hadn't looked too closely at what the Mr. Great Red Dragon had done to them last night (God, last night). There wasn't much to be done at the time.

Hannibal pressed cloth into his wound. Will had trouble keeping his eyelids open.

“You won't like this,” Hannibal warned next, dumping a small bottle of firewhiskey over his side ( _was there a mini bar here?_ Will thought hopefully), then plugging it back again with the cloth. When Will looked down, Hannibal's tongue was probing outside the wound. Blood, liquor, and sweat.

“I think I like that part, actually” he said faintly.

Hannibal smiled faintly, dumped more firewhiskey over the wound. “Rest, Will.”

“Can I taste you?”

“You did decent work on me, Dr. Graham. I'm not bleeding.”

He was definitely amused. He'd settled beside Will now and was stroking him, lulling him to sleep. It was nice, Will thought. This is what I want.

* * *

It was dark out when Will woke up again. Hannibal was bent over the desk, pouring through his new books. When he heard Will was awake, he handed Will his wand, a stack of papers, and a glass, impatiently urging him to sit up. Will yawned in reply.

"Perform them in this order,” Hannibal said.

Will squinted at the paper, and saw a list of spells that Hannibal had assuredly pulled from his reading.

“Hannibal, I don't know half of these,” Will protested. Rather, he'd been out of school so long, some were familiar because he'd had to do them for a test. “And this - the stretching charm - how high am I stretching something?”

"No bigger than the room."

Will sighed. He ran through the list a few times and then lifted his wand. The first was familiar - _aguamenti_ \- water flew from the tip of his wand and into glass. Hannibal drank it with the care of a fine wine. Weird.

“Continue.”

The next sprung a flame that was limited to the glass itself. Will lifted an eyebrow, but Hannibal pointed at the list urgently. Will tapped the glass with his wand, which reverted to metal, then pulled upward and stretched the object out to a fine tip. The final spell turned the awkward instrument a burnt orange. In his hands, when cooled, was an off-color sharp weapon with a strange handle. Hannibal picked it up and examined it at length.

“The heat wasn't necessary,” Will said. “You can transmute and transfigure anything to whatever shape you want.” Hannibal scribbled on the note and directed his attention to the next set of spells, looking expectant. For a moment, it reminded him of his dogs waiting for their treat.

Will would never be able to deny him anything again. He rolled up his sleeves, ignored the dull ache at his side, and ran through Hannibal's writing. Hannibal absorbed his demonstrations, made more notes, then stared at the wall. Yawning, Will wondered if it was his cue to go back to sleep when Hannibal spoke again.

“Will, I want to visit this school.”  He was looking at a drawing of Ilvermorny, the American wizard school.

“There's no foreign exchange study program,” Will explained. “And you can't do magic.”

Hannibal tilted his head and gave him a suffering look. “I would enroll as a squid.”

“A squib,” Will corrected. “Have you slept at all?”

Hannibal put the papers back on the desk with a sigh and settled back next to him. "What made you lose interest in this world, Will?" He couldn't keep the awe from his voice.

Will shifted positions so that he was facing him. They were close, not touching; he felt dizzy. Hannibal, with his infinite patience, waited for him to get his thoughts together.  “Do you remember the Dahmer case?” Will finally asked.

“Remind me,” he replied, with a note of sarcasm. Will rolled his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know if you ever saw the Stone Phillips interview with Dahmer, but it was the first thing I ever saw on a TV. We don’t have those, by the way” Will yawned. “See, I took a class where we spent the day as a no-maj, you know, not doing magic. I ended up in a hotel, turned the box on, and there it was, this guy that killed and ate people I didn’t realize how bored I was with magic until I heard about Dahmer. I was drawn to it.” He yawned again. “Murder doesn’t happen here, or… not like that, anyways. I wanted to learn about it. Just packed my bags and took the first train out.”

“To Minnesota?”

“Into Real New York.” Will weighed the import of his next sentence, said it anyways. “I came to Minnesota later to find the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Hannibal was having a hard time hiding his pleasure. “You wanted to be around people like you,” he said, tracing Will’s beard. Will was finding more and more how much he liked being touched by him. Given away to instinct, he was determined not to examine his pleasures too closely yet.

Instead, Will smiled at the memory of younger self, an idealistic justice warrior of sorts. “I thought I wanted to fight it. You know, I did think I could do some good in investigative work. I’m an intuitive legillimens.”

“You can read minds.”

“Something like that. Yeah. I guess I wanted to be understood in the way I understand other people.” It was something he was putting together as they were talking, as he was remembering his life before he’d left home.

“It is a wonderful thing to be understood with absolute clarity.”

It amazed Will how kind Hannibal appeared when he was gazing at him. At once he was Italy’s monster, at others an attentive lover. ( _Lover? Why had he thought that word? Was that what we they were?_ )  On the cliff, those identities merged perfectly, a bloody and triumphant man embracing him tenderly.

“I waited a long time to meet someone like you,” Hannibal said, stroking his cheek. Will leaned into his touch. Will wanted to return the sentiment and to talk about the moment that lead to their lives converging… but they were perfectly content.

* * *

 “I need my kitchen,” Hannibal informed him, appraising their colorless breakfast with undisguised contempt. They had alternated meals between the inn and a café down the street, but neither satisfied Hannibal. He sighed and gazed at his companion. “I want to cook for you again.” Hannibal had made it three days without complaints of his peasant life. Counter reset.

Will was reminded of their first meal together, the protein egg scramble Hannibal had brought to him during their first case, and smirked. It had been delicious, of course. _I’ve been in on it from the beginning then, haven’t I?_ Who had they been eating then?

Will wiped his mouth carefully and met Hannibal’s steady gaze. Who would they be eating next? If he knew Hannibal, he had been making plans. He wet his lips. Instead of the conflict he expected to come over him, he felt entirely exhilarated. “What’s on the menu?”

“That’ll be a surprise.”

Later, they returned to the inn. Hannibal had constructed a persona of a traveler from another state and spent most of the day coaxing information from the inn’s storekeepers and inhabitants. At night, he sped-read through books, while Will alternated between smoking or drinking, enjoying the quiet moment they had, the honeymoon period. They’d been chasing one another so long and now Will just wanted to revel in the time they could have together.

Every night, they curled up on their same blue-covered bed. There was never a question about utilizing the other bed other than a shelf, but the exact classification of their relationship was up in the air, because it felt unlike every relationship Will has ever known. They were both men, but Will needed to touch him, to be near him. It would’ve been simpler if he were gay, or this relationship mirrored any others he’d had. Hell, they’d tried to kill each other multiple times. They had known each other for years.

“What are you thinking about?” Hannibal cut in.

“What? Nothing.”

To Will’s surprise, he looked sullen, nor did he press and probe at him. Which meant he doesn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to know the answer. Will nudged against him.

“It’s nothing interesting, I’m always thinking about things,” Will repeated.

“I find your thoughts very interesting.”

“I know. You tried to saw my head open.”

Hannibal frowned. “Haven’t we forgiven each other?”

“I’m not above teasing.”

“At this exact moment, what are you thinking?”

Will stared into his eyes and met with demand. No. Insecurity. He kissed him gently. It was so easy, so natural to do so. “I’m just glad we’re here together. That we didn’t kill each other before we could have this kind of moment.”

“What kind of moment?”

So he was going to have to spell that out? “I might be in love with you. I feel like I’m in love with you and I’m with you, and that you might love me, too. That sort of thing.”

“You were married,” he said softly. Clearly, Will’s admission wasn’t enough of a confession, and neither was throwing his life away, risking life and limb to keep near him.

“You left me,” Will said. “I wasn’t use to being without you, I wasn’t used to being alone again.” Hannibal was scrutinizing him. “I did love her, but she couldn’t accept the parts of me you do.” The same dark parts that he accepted in Hannibal, he thought.

“You shouldn’t have married someone that couldn’t love you fully.”

“I know,” he replied. “I was trying to fit in, to be normal.”

“Oh Will,” he murmured into his hair, stroking his neck. He settled against him, drank up his attention. It was funny how distant he felt about Molly, even after they had their marriage certificate and had lay sweaty, post-coital and properly consummated. And here he was with this man, feeling as if he could slide into the other’s skin and become one person, complete finally. Whatever they were, it was perfect.

* * *

 They had whispered back and forth with Will wedged against Hannibal, stroking the arm curled around his chest. Now that they’d reaffirmed their affection, the desire for mutual destruction, they began talking about their next meal. Will told him about the spells he knew would be of use - cleaning spells, vanishing spells, invisibility, confunding, and sound-proofing. Will had also amused Hannibal with some darker spells he’d heard of, but they’d agreed that a good murder involved getting your hands dirty. It had to be kept intimate.

In the morning, they’d buy their new place. They’d stayed too long in the inn as is, not that any wizards or witches seemed to notice. The wizard community didn’t seem to notice much. They were looking for (as it turned out) something obscenely large in area, open, and lavish. Will wanted a balcony, rather something reminiscent of the cliffs. He wanted a yard, too, but it seemed impossible in Real New York. Hannibal promised they’d live in as many different places Will wanted.

Hannibal had insisted on making Will the “secret keeper” of the location. He’d been quite proud of finding that spell in a biography on Harry Potter, especially after the amount of eye rolling Will had subjected him to after finding the book in Hannibal’s stack. Especially a spell Will had never heard of.  

As for their victim, it was obvious they would target a no-maj. A wizard could fight back in ways Hannibal wouldn’t be ready for. A dead wizard could lead into an investigation. DNA was easier to erase than time, story easier to manipulate without Veritaserum. It was less risky. Hannibal would lead, Will would be his guard. Will was to pick their victim, but Hannibal would do the work. They’d lure the victim to their home, Will casting spells along the way to make them a silent, invisible group. As secret keeper, Will would casually announce their house address. Then the curtain would rise, the play would begin.

The idea they would kill for fun would’ve brought up revulsion to Will in the past. It was still an idea he was learning to be used to, but then his beautiful monster would smile at Will and he’d think of the way he looked baptized in blood, he’d remember the adrenaline scorching through his veins when he’d turned the knife on their attacker. He’d felt alive as he gutted him, watched him finally collapse. He had felt victorious. Vicariously, he’d felt many emotions when he took lives - love, revenge, sport. Why had he denied himself that sweet release? Hannibal stood as a reminder that they could take all they wanted.

Already, Will imagined scenarios in passing. It was a game of sorts. How would he do it with this or that person? What death would fit that person? It was important to him that the death would be honorable. He would take, and he would return. Not that it would be enough.

Will’s favorite scenario involved a fight to death. There was an element of danger, his opponent could gain the upperhand at any time. Something about it introduced a vague idea of fairness, though it was far from equal. Will would be prepared, he’d have his wand and he’d have Hannibal. He’d always have Hannibal.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!
> 
> This is a side-project I've had sitting in my computer for awhile. I finished binge-watching Hannibal around the same time FBAWTF came out and promised to write WishTriangle a fic of her choice, only to immediately ignore her request. As life goes. (It was Newt/Graves, by the way)
> 
> Anywoodles, I want to finish my other fic first before getting into this, so unless inspiration hits, it will be awhile. 
> 
> Happy Hunting!


End file.
